▻ Cutting a tight figure, even in his old age, there's only a few things that distinctly stand out about Johnathon. The almost giddy, bursting with energy vibration that settles deep in his gut, evident in every line and movement of his body. And the undeniable limp (occasionally accompanied by a cane) and odd twist of his hips and right leg when he moves. Even then, with the contrast of his vibrancy to his obvious crippled state, Johnathon has no issues standing out. In the cut of his attire to the way he holds himself, Johnathon has a demanding attention that begs for a spare glance his way.

Most of the time, it's rather difficult to see the wealth that oozes from his very fingertips. He's not dipping caviar, or driving vintage muscle cars, and he's certainly not toting around expensive casual wear like he's suddenly young and hip again. No, Johnathon doesn't see the fun in materialism, both the philosophy (as he's quite spiritual, by nature) and the attitude. His mother always joked about having the hardest time getting him in a simple button up. Johnathon goes for comfort and self-assurance over the idea that people have opinions. His casual attire ranges from nice sweatpants to cozy sweaters; perhaps a morning jog in just a pair of shorts; perhaps he'll lounge around his home in a robe and some old boxers.

Unfortunately, Johnathon's job does demand he come in wearing a suit and tie, mostly because they'd rather not have him coming in wearing a pair of Homer Simpson pajama bottoms or a onesie - more risk and potential of seeing an old man's junk. That's where his custom, bespoke outfits come into play and he has two for every day of the week just because it's fairly easy to alternate between this one and then that ever other week. Less time spent at the dry cleaners is more time spent doing whatever the hell he wants.

▻ You know what people envy the most, these days? Pure, unadulterated, visceral happiness. Genuine sincerity. Having and wanting for nothing, but getting it anyways. Or perhaps befalling a tragedy and coming out of it simply turning that smiling face and chasing another dream. Soul crushing nihilism and black hole like existentialism have no meaning to a man who's just happy to be alive, live in the moment, and die having been glad to do something, however insignificant. Johnathon radiates positivity and sunshine like it absolutely oozes out of him. It might as well. Things shine bright and vibrant in his eyes - just the kind of optimist that can't seem to see a bad thing coming.

Unfortunate that, when a bad thing does come, they're rather wholly unprepared to face it. Or just naive enough to ignore it. The only fallback is their mighty resilience. Johnathon may not be adaptable, but he sure can take a beating. It's this stubbornness that both drives him and infuriates others. Bullheaded not only in his optimism and happiness, but also in his own faulty choices and ignorance. He's not used to change and doesn't like it much; he won't take change lightly unless there's no other possible options. Even then, Johnathon doesn't sit down in a resigned nature. He's fervent. He's got a fire and a passion and he'll likely trample whoever he can to keep it burning. Even if those passions are for the good of others, and usually they are - he loves to help people. What he doesn't realize is that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. A saying his own parents drilled into him, but never quite got to stick.

At least that compassion drives him further than just stubborn predilection. Johnathon's morals have never been in question, it's just how he finds himself getting to that end goal. It's very simple for Johnathon to tunnel into one specific goal and disregard everything else - his morality be damned. But, he'll fight for it gladly, even when there's absolutely no reason to. Even when he should run in order to come back stronger than before. Johnathon has absolutely no will and no resolve to back down; he'll stand until he dies. And sadly, that's a very, very true statement as he's had to been forced down by more than a few colleagues and friends. Just doesn't quite know when to give up. Perhaps that's a good thing. Perhaps it's one of his many, great flaws.

▻ Gathering everything and leaving had to be among the hardest decisions Johnathon has ever made. Having lived and loved and a multitude of many other things in Bowness, Cumbria in England, leaving meant breaking ties with everything and everyone there. Perhaps that was a necessary step in his journey. After all, he owed his mother, a single widow trying to do right by her dead husband, that much just for raising him. Johnathon, looking back, could very well say he was not the kind of child anyone would have wanted. He was loud, obnoxious, too full of energy and prone to fits of hyper activity ever two damn minutes. He wore his mother out, but she still poured affection over him in droves.

Yet, she somehow knew he wouldn't stay for very long. Johnathon's predilection to music appeared very early in his formative years. He bumbled around singing whatever he'd heard that day, not really conscious of the words and the notes coming out of his mouth until the start of primary. Finding out that he could have a career in it? That was absolutely the end of days for his mother. She wouldn't stop hearing about it, how he'd become a singer, a rock star, or a performer. An entertainer, when he got fed up thinking of new singing professions to talk about.

So, of course, by the end of his year in secondary school, Johnathon took a year gathering as much money as he could and then promptly leaving for the states. Leaving everything behind at a blind shot at stardom. His eyes had been set for Hollywood, but sadly he'd stopped somewhere in downtown Manhattan. Immediately, Johnathon knew he was absolutely fucked, but he went on regardless and he smiled no matter what happened. His mother taught him that. "The world throws eggs at you. Throws rotten, spoiled things. They want to hurt you with words and knifes and stones," she'd say, stern and with her hands on her hips and a fire burning her chest, "You smile. You smile and tell them thank you. Have a nice day. And don't give them an ounce of oil for their fuel. Love and you love with your whole heart."

And people did hate him. They cursed at him, called him names, made fun of his accent even and the way he talked. Johnathon didn't know yet what to do with his life aside from find a roommate or ten to split the bills with and find a job that he loved. The first job, however, definitely wouldn't be something he'd find himself working years later. But he smiled, because what can you do as a waiter in some ragtag diner down in Soho? Oh and people would rip into him for getting the wrong order, for tripping on his shoelaces, for stuttering when nervous. But he smiled, handed them their bill and fully expected them not to tip. He still hoped they had a great meal and a greater day.

Every day he'd grow closer to his goal. Hollywood was just a few more scrubs on this table away. Of course, until Hollywood didn't matter anymore. One of his roommates kindly shoved a pamphlet to an off-broadway production of Hamlet. Hamlet of all things. No singing, just quite a bit of memorized lines about potential suicide and a lot of angst in a small plot of land somewhere in Denmark. It paid alright. Would be like busting ten tables down at Betty's. So, Johnathon took it, landed the lead part as Hamlet, and absolutely blew his audience away. The rush and exhilaration of having people stand up for you, applause, and cheer, even just a small run down theatre with those lousy, tin-aluminum, whatever fold up chairs. That feeling fueled him.

It took years before Johnathon even got a small whiff of a chance, an opportunity, to do something beyond himself in scope. A showing of Anything Goes and by some dumb chance he landed Billy Crocker after somehow stunning the director with a rendition of You're the Top, with the assistant director, after a few bars of a song of his choice. The entire thing was absolutely overwhelming and it gave Johnathon a high he didn't realize he needed. He broke into the Broadway stage like he'd just been set ablaze and he took his opportunity, slung it over his shoulder, and road that rocket all the way to absolute stardom.

He made it big like he knew he would, with every bit his dignity and his talents in tact. And after gaining enough recognition and money, he honed all of those talents and made himself even better. Johnathon wouldn't always get away with just having the raw talent that earned him his first few leads on Broadway; he knew that and he built on what he had.

For years, Johnathon took to the stage and did what he did best and continued doing so for years after. Of course, that could essentially sum up the more lavish part of his young life. It only turned downhill after he'd peaked, or, at least he lived part of his dream and the rest came crashing down. Johnathon wanted to spend his life on the stage, doing exactly what he loved until he physically couldn't walk anymore. Unfortunately, that happened a little sooner than he thought.

After almost reaching the heights of his career, Johnathon landed a spot on Footloose as Ren McCormack. During one of the rehearsals, a week before the show would light up the Broadway stage, one of the set pieces fell loose - a faulty screw or bad wiring, who knew. It crashed headlong into Johnathon, having seen the piece too late and attempting to dive out of the way. It shattered every bone in his body and part of his spine, earning him a good few months in the hospital.

Being the optimist, Johnathon figured he'd heal up and go right back to the stage, dancing his feet of and singing until his lungs burst. The doctors didn't see it as such and the moment they'd announced he'd be paralyzed from the waist down his whole life, his world completely crashed - no, it burned up before it even broke the earth's atmosphere.

The news hit him hard and after a few days after leaving the hospital's care, he moved back to the UK in order to find care with his mother. Those few days, the plane ride, the car ride, his mother crying on his motionless lap, all passed in a black, grey blur. It took a month of introspection and a sedentary life for Johnathon to regain even a portion of his positive outlook. His optimism wouldn't come back fully, never after such a tragedy, but if anyone failed to just lie down and take it, it was Johnathon.

Every day, from that moment on, Johnathon actively worked to regain the motion in his legs. He took the train to London for weekly appointments with a physical therapist who had more than a few doubts. The drive and will, the determination that burned in his chest compelled him to keep trying. To keep rising from his wheelchair and trying his damn hardest to take just one step. It took years of recovery to even move his legs and many more down the line before Johnathon turned a tragedy, a dream gone terribly wrong, into one of success and miracles. But miracles had nothing to do with it. Johnathon had every bit the drive and motivation to stand on his two feet again and keep moving - to never stop once he started. Until he was no longer stumbling, but walking; no longer walking, but running.

Of course, it eventually stopped there; his legs fully healed, but his right one didn't quite heal properly. He could move, run even, do extensive exercises a few times a week, though he worked with less time to curb the intolerable pain. However, his right leg didn't quite move as it once did and the doctors he went to found it far too risky to attempt breaking and resetting the bone, especially since they'd practically have to shatter nearly the entire length of it and possibly his hip too. Johnathon resigned to that, at the very least. He couldn't do as much as he once could, but at least he could still sing and belt with the best of them.

Eventually, Johnathon found a new passion and a new life. When one door closed, he simply picked himself up (after so many years) and turned toward another one. Life was filled with a variety of adventures, some small and others large. Eventually some would end, sometimes prematurely, but until he lay buried six feet under, there'd always be another one on the horizon.

Johnathon soon found himself in business classes and various others oriented to music, got a bachelor's degree and began producing music. He occasionally produced his own, but he mostly catered to other musicians, taking whatever work he could find from others. Rock, jazz, pop, even a dabble in synth and techno from an eccentric German band. It wasn't until he'd found himself molding his own business and operations did Johnathon find that streak he'd been missing. He eventually led himself to Los Angeles, producing for a big record company downtown while occasionally hosting a radio show.

This time, Johnathon brought his aging mother and allowed her to settle in a better home in Lakewood Summit. He wanted only the best for her as she experienced the twilight ages of her years. She's still kicking, even in her late seventies, but she's recently requested to settle down in a retirement home not far from Lakewood. Again, Johnathon only paid for the best when it concerned his mother and she got just that. He currently, frequently visits her on the weekends and always plays her one of her favorite Beatles songs, Here Comes the Sun whenever he knows for sure she's tuning into the station he's currently co-hosting. At the moment, life could certainly not be better, but for Johnathon, most of his life is just a pocket full of sunshine.

▻ A former Broadway star, having won three Tonys for his best musicals. He's most known for his rendition of Seymour from Little Shop of Horrors, as well as J. Pierrepont Finch in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.

At the moment, he's a music producer for a big name record company in downtown LA, where he frequently commutes. Though, he mostly works at home, Johnathon co-hosts a radio show on Friday and Saturday mornings before he goes to visit his mother, Coleen.

▻ Singing (and some Dancing) - Oh, Johnathon adores singing. Any song really. Just give him a name and a band or a person, perhaps a show, and he'll do his best to show it some justice. He'll often slide onto the piano bench in the Country Club to simply hammer out a small number and be on his way. He also, often, attempts to dance one out, but it's hell on his damage legs and joints, so he keeps from exerting too much stress on it.

▻ Fitness - As much as is humanly possible for Johnathon. He can still definitely train his upper body, and to some extent his lower body, but cardio's very hard without a proper leg to work on. Of course, he does his absolutely best to keep fit and keep a healthy diet and, while he wasn't the musclebound young lad he was, he's not actually quite far off.

▻ Concerts/Plays/Musicals - Anything with a stage and music or preforming, you'll find Johnathon in the front row. He's also quite an avid lover of art and peruses through LA's many glorious art galleries. It's evident from his assortment of art decor lining his home walls.

▻ Gardening - Ah, bending down and getting back up puts a helluva strain on his back, but he makes due. He loves planting his own herb garden, seeing what's in season, getting lovely, ripe, nice and juicy tomatoes or watermelons or pumpkins. But, also making sure his front yard looks spot on; of course, he has a number of gardeners to assist in matters, but Johnathon isn't afraid to dirty his knees.

Coleen Wight Aldman – mother – A direly old lady who's slowly deteriorating in a nursing home a thirty minute drive from Lakewood Summit. Of course, she retains her memory and is as fiery as ever, especially when her son visits.

▻ Feet like obsidian and pressed suit swirling in oily black - a reluctant business man. People wear things like armor; Hayden wears his suits like a fortress, all cold steal and granite rock. He stands upright with the attentiveness of a man seeking foreclosures and partnerships, throwing around trade jargon like he knows it. A figure worthy of a portrait, sucking the age from his youthful face. Your average Dorian Gray. An entire closet set fills with a number of purely tailored, bespoke suits and hand crafted shoes, passed down from a father near perfectly his size, yet so garishly different. Hayden remains a contrast to his father and looks ill-fitted in suits pressed and tailored to his near, exact size. They aren't his. It's like wearing another's skin and it crawls, sinks its hooks into him.

Like many people, Hayden has his moments and his ticks. Idiosyncrasies that identify him in a crowd so he can't quite blend. They've changed since he was young and full of hope. The grinding, slide of his jaw as his eyes glaze in thought. His posture running ramrod straight in a chair, leg folded crisply over the other. The near, inaudible hum in the back of his throat that vibrates his jaw. His eyes pierce and his lips, thin and chapped, strain with frown lines that crease his jowls - a set under his prominent cheekbones that would practically puff up with a smile, now only contrast with the sunken, tired look in his eyes.

Routine dulls him, but keeps his body healthy and his mind relatively stable. Hayden looks for distractions prominently, in a futile attempt to nullify the grayness hanging over him. It keeps his curve sleek, allows him to slide into his suits without much effort and come out cutting a sharp figure. His height's average and his weight one mainly consisting of muscle. Hair feels thinner, shorter, and his face lacks the glow it used to, though the fairness remains. He doesn't like comfortable; he doesn't need it.

▻ What's a man with nothing to lose and nothing to gain? Better off dead. And yet he finds a reason, at least, in protecting someone he loves. Noble, if selfish, though he would argue, vehemently, against the notion.

Among the many siblings, Hayden, perhaps, comes across as the most tragic casualty. A tally on his parents' count of dead dreams. The first among the Hawthornes - perhaps, the first in a lot of things. In his youth, Hayden wanted for nothing, at least nothing that his parents could offer him. Much like his father, Hayden's independence struck fast and struck hard. For an unassuming young man, many didn't expect the viciousness to which Hayden dictated his own life. He snipped ties and bonds without much thought to feelings other than his own. Most of the time, he wandered blindly towards his many goals.

What differentiated Hayden from other rebellious teens and runaways was just how savvy, how adaptable, and how resilient he was. Or, perhaps, simply how utterly bullheaded and ruthless he became in the light of his own wants and desires. Much the conman his father had been, though with less want for the ambition that made the Hawthornes a household name. Hayden, unlike his father, knew the benefits of contentment and once he'd achieved what he set out to do, Hayden settled.

When lacking the passion and cruelty that motivated his waking moments, Hayden would make an ultimate switch. A kind of lack of desire to move on from what he'd accomplished. It infuriated his father, who had so desired his children to not only succeed in general, but succeed in toppling him, besting him, usurping him. Hayden achieved his vindication and found contentment in that. He didn't push himself forward, didn't decide to climb the next few rungs in light of simply staying on these few comfy pegs.

That's where Acacia came in. Of all of his siblings, Hayden adored the youngest the most. A dire weakness that his father took advantage of. The ultimatum his father set for him forced Hayden into a state of introspection. Ultimately, Hayden evolved beyond the perpetual, snob of a rebellious teenager into an off-hand mirror of his own father. Taking up the mantle, the corporation, in light of his father's death, threw Hayden into a fortress of himself and locked him inside. Jaded, cynical, stoic; a dull, permanent gray in a dim landscape.

▻ At some point in our lives a decision has to be made and a road needs crossing. It is entirely up to us how we perceive these changes to our core selves and whether or not we accept them.

Among ten children, the Hawthorne legacy was quite a thing to live up to. Ten children, and just one to take the a pivotal role in succeeding what the Hawthorne name stood for. The unfortunate part of having children so undeniably like himself, was the inevitability of a mini-Hawthorne revolution. None of the children wanted the mantle. None of the children wanted anything to do with their own parents.

The first one, Hayden, had been the most groomed to succeed. He was also the most like his father, just with his mother's knack for subversion. He was also the first to feel burned by both parents' obvious neglect, hubris, and avarice. From the point of his realization on, Hayden sought only to dismantle everything his father stood for and to find the best seat to watch his beloved company burn.

This undeniable game of cat and mouse began in Hayden's first year of college. Like his father desired, he'd studied business and a number of other suitable things - foreign languages, humanities, computational skills. After his graduation, his father signed him right up as an intern for their company. They handled a manufacturing business for energy companies; they practically monopolized a number of resources in Northern America and Europe. They specialized in building and maintaining Nuclear Reactors. All of it on the back of his father, making the company fairly recent, though only by forty or so years.

After a number months, Hayden made a switch to a rival company, gathering all of his father's data and liquidizing his own share of the stock. He invested every penny, knowing full well it might all go to waste. Wanting his father's rival to succeed wasn't his intention; seeing his father seething made, boiling over with rage, and wanting his head on a pike was his priority. Knowing full well his father would find it cowardly to take these matters on legally, Hayden made the information exchange in order to gain a more prestigious seat within the corporation. He cared little for the money, the title, or the company - he just wanted to see his father burn.

At every step and interval, ever business transaction made and meeting handled, Hayden was always a step ahead of his own father. He sank a number of time in ruining much of daddy Hawthorne's investments, wooing a number of investors over with sweet words and sweeter deals. Much of the time, he found a number of underhanded ways to accomplish such. His father's stock plummeted a number of times and many of the land he'd acquired through business deals quickly faded on the European frontier. It all culminated to a number of technological advancements that mirrored his father's own. Being the first to accomplish them, patent them, and use them, it barred his father from utilizing his own R&D's progress.

Hayden's greatest accomplish was indeed sending his father over the edge. After stealing precious ideas and resources from right under his nose, Hayden's father finally took legal action, albeit in a very conniving, underhanded way. He ultimately annihilated his rival company through a number of environmental concerns, evidence of mishandling of hazard and toxic material, and a number of embezzling scandals directly tied to the CEO, CFO, and co-founder. Hayden simply walked away, knowing full well he did exactly what he'd set to accomplish.

At that, Hayden cut all ties to his family, aside from his sister and a few other siblings. While infuriated, much of what Hayden had done impressed his father, earning him a place reserved for just an incredibly short list of people his father had. That was quickly dashed away at Hayden's insistence on leaving it at that - going so far and just being alright with the outcome, not taking a step further in whatever direction he chose. Though, Hayden would argue he did take that step, it was just the step his father didn't want him to take. So, perhaps it was a last act of defiance from him.

Regardless, Hayden buggered off to a small college in Maine, acquired an English degree and a teaching license and settled in the outskirts of Augusta. All of his earnings had been locked away in a savings account and would remain untouched for quite some time. Hayden wanted a quite life after everything had been said and done and he was determined to achieve that. Contentment had been something Hayden always wanted; teaching was another thing he always wanted, but that aside, his father's own suffering came first.

For the next few years, he kept in close touch with his youngest sister, who confided in him quite a few things most of his other siblings, much less his parents, had no idea of. It didn't further escalate until Acacia was set to graduate from high school. She wanted art and paintings, galleries and studios, yet her father insisted she take over the company after she graduated from university. Hayden hadn't realized the plans until she'd told him. She likely hadn't told him for awhile, until it was nearly too late to change her own course, for the exact purpose she was wanting to prevent. Hayden took the issue with his father, who'd regaled him with a reminder that she was the last of his siblings, all of which disowned any responsibility to the Hawthorne legacy.

Infuriated, Hayden set up an appointment with his father, taking a plane to fly the few hours it took to reach his family business in LA. His father gave him an ultimatum: either Acacia take charge of the Hawthorne Corporation, effectively crushing everything that made Acacia who she was, or Hayden would take it, as he should have, and tap into that Hawthorne ambition his father knew was still there. Hayden reluctantly agreed, to which his father notified him of his impending death. He was losing a battle to stomach cancer, which the doctors didn't find until it was much too late. He had approximately three months left to live, giving Hayden three months to pack and move into his new, Lakewood Summit home that his father picked especially for him.

Hayden seethed, but complied, and in those three months, he found himself resigning to his fate. Perhaps this was what it had all been coming down to. He'd had his fun in the sun, got what he wanted from his father, and now he'd have to accept the consequences of his actions.

His father died behind schedule, a few months after his allotted day of death. The contents of the will had been doled out, Acacia would still attend Stanford, Hayden acquired a number of money, the Lakewood home, and a percentage of Hawthorne Corps' stock. Most importantly, he gained the family business and lost most, if not all, of himself in the process.

▻ CEO and owner of Hawthorne Energy Corporation based in downtown LA.

▻ Fiction Writing - in Hayden's spare time, if he can find any, he often chips away at the novel he's wishing to someday get published. Under a pen name, of course; he wants the feeling of actually succeeding in selling a good book, rather than just plastering his name on something to make it sell.
▻ Country Club Fitness/Gym - Hayden perhaps spends quite a bit of time losing himself in a rigorous work out routine. He pushes himself undoubtedly hard and tends to forget that he has a threshold, which he often exceeds. A number of his injuries can be explained through simply forgetting that he can't run for 17 miles a day.
▻ Stargazing - something he'd indulged Acacia in for one of her birthdays, her twelfth to be exact, and ever since it's become tradition for them. When his head's feeling too full and he wants nothing more than to jump off a goddamn skyscraper to silence the ceaseless buzzing, Hayden drives himself as far out into the country or mountains as he can and pitches up a small fort of blankets to watch the stars on.
▻ Assists and Volunteers for the Academy - unfortunately, Hayden can't seem to stay away from academia and he does his best to free up time to assist Lakewood Academy in anything they require, or need more hands to help with. Mostly it's just finding people who are willing to pitch in for a potluck here and there when the school itself won't provide meals.

Acacia Hawthorne – little sister – They talk via whatever IM service they can, if they don't directly call. They're both extremely close, and Hayden likes to take up a mentor role for his sister, but also acts as her confidant, and to some extent... perhaps even the father she never had the opportunity to get to know.

Elise Hawthorne – mother – A fashionista and a very strong woman, with her hand directly in the fashion industry. She's not to be trifled with and Hayden has a very thin relationship with her. They only ever talk because she requires monthly reports on how Hawthorne Corps is doing. (She ultimately loves her son to death)